Trussed
by laminatebox
Summary: Irene Adler has been paid to show Sherlock a good time. Warning: Mature Content/Mild torture  Eventually
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This has nothing to do with the other story and will probably be very short and ridiculous. Hope you like it :3

Disclaimer: Own nothing I do.

Chapter 1:

Swirling in dreams, Sherlock was surprised when he woke handcuffed to a bed not his own. Slowly regaining his faculties, he scanned the room, trying to take in as many details as possible. There was a bedside table with a short glass containing what looked like water and a single window. From his position, however, he could only see the overcast sky. The wallpaper had a distinct french style but he couldn't place what year it had been made. The door seemed to be made of oak, but he couldn't make an accurate deduction without getting closer. The handle was french as well and golden in color. He had absolutely no clue as to his current location.

His own position was very strange. He couldn't recall what he did last before falling asleep, but it certainly wouldn't have involved going to bed naked. Hmm, so someone must have undressed him, hopefully after they moved him to this location. Though he was lying naked on the bed, he was surprisingly not cold, other than the cool cuffs on each of his ankles and wrists. He felt slightly groggy, so perhaps he hadn't fallen asleep, but was instead, drugged. Interesting...

He turned his head to the side and looked out the window again. The creak of the door announced Irene Adler's presence. A dark robe was draped loosely over her shoulders, hardly hiding the fact that she, too, was naked. Her smoky eyes hungrily crept over his nude body before meeting his eyes. "I'm glad to see you're awake."

"Ms. Adler," he nodded at her. He kept his face stoic, waiting for an explanation from the woman standing across from him.

She smiled and crossed the room to the table beside the bed and sat with her back to Sherlock's side. She turned slightly, angling her body to face him. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here, Mr. Holmes." She offered Sherlock a drink from the glass on the table.

Sniffing the liquid, he decided that if she had wanted him dead she would have killed him already, instead of offering poison. That, and he was parched, so he took a sip.

"I have my suspicions." He leveled his gaze to her face, careful not to stare at the scantily clad body next to him.

She glanced down avoiding his eye contact for a moment. She placed the glass down on the bedside table before she returned her gaze to Sherlock. The smile returned to her face as she reached to stroke Sherlock's face.

"Look at you. The only thing that could make this better is if there was a pretty little bow on you."

"Are you intending to keep me tied here forever?" Sherlock knit his brows in irritation at being stolen away from his home and livelihood.

Irene put her finger to Sherlock's lips, effectively shushing him. "Now, Sherlock, someone paid a pretty good sum to see to it that you and I have a little fun." She glanced down to his striking collar bone, "and it just so happens that the offer came from someone I couldn't possibly refuse."

She got up on the bed on all fours with her arms pinning the already restrained Sherlock. She looked at Sherlock's face and noted the uncomfortable way his eyes shifted with a slight tint of fear. "Oh come now, do you honestly want to remain a virgin forever?"

"It's none of your business and I am not interested." Sherlock gulped, bolstering the last bit of his confidence, which had slowly been draining since Irene Adler had strode into the room.

"It's not really for you or me to decide," she answered with a sigh. "Though it would be a lot easier if you were cooperative. I don't particularly care for punishing someone who doesn't enjoy it." She glanced down. "I don't know if I should be hurt that you're not excited to see me, or if you've never been so close to a naked woman that you don't know how to react." She slid her hand down his chest, gently scratching his skin with her nails.

"I'd love to see your skin turn red. It's a much prettier color than this boring tone." Irene paused, smiling and teasing him with her eyes.

"You've caught a bit of break though," she said, "I need to go see a very important client and I musn't be late." She backed away and lightly placed her feet on the ground, never loosing sight of Sherlock as she left the bed.

"You caught me in the middle of getting ready." She patted her hair, making sure it was in place, "I just had to make sure my favorite detective was alright." She walked towards the door and opened it, stopping in the door frame.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll be back later to finish what I started." With that, she threw a meaningful stare and closed the door.

Sherlock could even hear the distinct noise as the lock clicked into place. Hardly necessary considering there wasn't anyway he was getting out of these bonds anytime soon. Yelling seemed superfluous considering he was most likely on the second or third floor of the building and it was unlikely that Adler would allow such a flaw in her plan.

Sighing, he wriggled against the bonds, testing their durability. They seemed fairly sturdy and if he had to guess, he'd say they were typical steel, chain handcuffs, probably with a slot lock to prevent him from injuring himself. He grumbled in frustration. Why did this have to happen to him? Especially from The Woman of all people!

He wondered briefly about John. What would John say when he found out about this mess Sherlock had managed to get into? He entertained the idea of a rescue coming to save him from the grasp of Irene Adler, but he shook himself. 'Let's not get carried away," he thought. Rescues were wonderful to read about in the papers and in stories, but the chances of that happening in this scenario were pretty slim and Sherlock never liked the idea of false hope.

Unable to turn his body into a comfortable position, Sherlock realized that his discomfort had only just begun. Exasperated with his nonexistent options, the arrival of another wave of exhaustion hit his body like a brick and sent Sherlock to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: **Watch out! There's ****GRAPHIC**** sex and stuff!** Okay, I lied about the stuff. Sorry if it's toooo graphic D: Also: I may have been born speaking English, but some days it's like I don't even know who I am anymore :o "I'm from the South and we make up words for whatever we want."

A restless sleep gave way to restless dreams. Irene Adler, starring exclusively in each one. She danced around his precious thoughts, teasing, mocking him. Frustrated, he attempted to catch her but, like smoke, she was ever so elusive. Sherlock shivered as the dream turned colder. He seemed lost in a white mist that iced his skin, his search leading him towards a sinister looking darkness. A hand on his shoulder woke him. He gasped awake to stare into the eyes of the woman who seemed to always evade him, leaning over him.

"Hello, love." She said gently as she brushed his curls off his forehead. "It seems I mistakenly left you a little cold. But it doesn't matter. I know just how to heat things up."

Taken aback, Sherlock struggled to sit up, but found he couldn't. His cuffs allowed little wiggle room and his wrists already burned from his attempted escape. She tsked at him, gesturing to his wrists. "Someone couldn't wait." She bat her eyelashes back to look at Sherlock. He now noticed that she was wearing a flowing beige robe that opened to display her nude curves. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her mobile phone and trademark riding crop. He cringed a little inside remembering the shock of her unexpected drug dose. His hazy mind recalled her standing over him, taunting him while brushing his cheeks with the damn thing.

"Oh, don't worry," she said noticing his change in focus. "I shouldn't need that." With that, Irene began to kiss Sherlock's collar bone making a trail from his neck to his ear. She breathed heavily, encircling his ear with her lips. "If I'm going to be forced to do this, I might as well make it enjoyable." Before Sherlock could ponder what she meant he immediately felt a hand take hold of his cock. He gasped and tried to shrink from the contact.

"No, I-" Irene placed a finger over his lips. "Shhh. Don't ruin it," she said as she meaningfully squeezed. Sherlock suppressed a moan, trying to get his mind off the fact that he was being touched by someone other than himself. And even then, the thought to masturbate hadn't really appealed to him. The sensation of her skin on his flesh was both delightful and unbearable. The sensitive nerves reacted to her careful stroking causing him to grow hard.

She pulled herself completely onto the bed and straddled the naked man. She shrugged off her robe gazing lazily at Sherlock. He found he couldn't look away from her breasts as her figure was so prettily presented before him. Irene smirked and leaned forward on top of him, her face inches from his own. She snatched up his lips in a halfhearted kiss before jokingly adding, "Do please be gentle with me, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock nearly growled at her, but he was getting lost in the sensation of her touch. How easily he slid into her, causing an explosive tingling feeling. This felt good, despite it being against his very nature. His senses were overloaded with new experiences. Her soft sighs as she began to rock against him, drummed in his ears. Her hair freely flowed over her slender shoulders. Her hands glided down his sides, nearly tickling his sensitive sides.

His cock was alight from the blissful tightness and the smooth rocking sensation that was Irene Adler. He saw her at this moment as the woman she was.

The excitement began to climb toward a peak and Sherlock couldn't help but let a small moan escape. He was starting to go mad from the burden on his senses. His lower half seemed to have a mind of its own as it came up to meet with Irene's body. His breath became laboured and sweat dabbled at his forehead. Excruciatingly arousing, his mind focused on one thing, reaching that peak. Whenever he got close, Irene seemed to have a mind of her own, slowing down to a gut wrenching-ly slow pace. God, if he could just get her to pick up once more, he'd be done with this but, she wanted him to work for that ultimate pleasure. He lost himself for what seemed like hours, playing this game with Irene that had no clear winner.

As he came close once more, instead of slowing, she matched to his involuntary thrusts. "I-I'm.." he stuttered. Irene simply nodded her head as noticeably as possible. He came inside her in a blissful moment that was devoid of thought or boredom. He finally understood what good couples were for and why John always had women around.

Irene slowly climbed off of him, reaching out once more to touch his face, her face unreadable. She retrieved a towel she had placed on the floor when she came in and used it to clean what mess there was. She dropped the towel to the right of the bedside table and scooped up a blanket that had been sitting on the floor as well. She used it to cover his nude body before saying in a neutral voice, "I'll have Kate fix you something to eat. I'll be back later." Sherlock thought he glimpsed a glint of sadness in her eye before she pulled away from him. Speechless, himself, he couldn't think of anything to say.

She picked up her robe, placing it around her shoulders and wrapping it tightly to her waist. She didn't say anything else as she picked up her phone and, while walking, dialed a number. She opened the door and stepped through, slowly closing the door behind her.

Sherlock caught a soft Irish lit that answered on the first ring, "Is it finished?"

"Yes." she said coldly before clicking the door and lock into place. 

_End! Debated whether Sherlock would like it or not. I like this version. Let me know if you think the sex was super awkward/unbelievable or anything else for that matter. :3_


End file.
